


Nightmare

by Loloorenn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Boys In Love, Civil war was BAD and I'm not over it, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Seriously its a lot of bad dreams, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, The others aren't in this because they didn't fit that's all, They Get Hugs, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, We ignore Endgame and Infinity war, for a moment - Freeform, look Steve Rogers and Tony Stark deserve BETTER so I gave them EACHOTHEr, lots of fluff, this sounds worse than it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 22:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20415157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loloorenn/pseuds/Loloorenn
Summary: “STEVE!?!” Tony stumbles out of the suit, collapsing to the ground beside the motionless soldier. Blonde hair staining crimson.He’s dimly aware of hands on his shoulders, fingers wiping blood, Steve’s blood, off of his face.-------“You got shot. Right in front of me. Couldn’t stop it, couldn’t save you.”Steve stills, the air sucked from his lungs. “Jesus Tony.” A breathless gasp and he’s crushing Tony tight to his chest. “It wasn’t real sweetheart, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”-----Tony and Steve have nightmares, but they're there to hold eachother together when they wake up feeling like they might fall apart.A glimpse into the lives of PTSD ridden superheros in love





	Nightmare

“Got them all?” Steve asks into his com set, affirmations echo from his teammates. Tony does a final sweep, clear. Something feels off. Dread crawling up his spine, sending goosebumps across his skin. He scans again, still clear.

Closing in on Steve’s location he breaks out in a cold sweat. Something is _wrong_. “Stark are you clear?” Steve’s voice is loud and clear through the ear piece, distinctly worried. Tony answer with some witty reply he forgets before it’s even out of his mouth, scanning the area again. 

Stomach in knots, Tony lands the suit six feet away from Steve, mask flipping back and muggy air replacing air conditioning. No wonder Steve is coated in sweat. With a lopsided grin reminiscent of a puppy Steve pulls his helmet off and shakes his hair out.

Tony glances around, still nothing. “Look, can we get out of here? This place gives me the heebie jeebies.” His voice comes out strong, but Steve frowns, holding a hand out and stepping closer. Tony glances around again, something on the rooftop to his right glints.

_CRACK_

Tony barely registers the echo, staring at Steve. Steve freezes, mouth open, about to speak. Bright redacross his face. He drops to the ground, head smacking against the pavement, the deep red hole in the centre of his forehead pooling blood onto the ground behind him.

“STEVE!?!” Tony stumbles out of the suit, collapsing to the ground beside the motionless soldier. Blonde hair staining crimson. The others are yelling, Tony’s hearing fuzzes to white noise, someone screams, it could have been him. 

“No, nonononono Steve, fuck, no don’t do this. Don’t do this to me.” He’s talking, hands fluttering uselessly around the lifeless body of his Captain. They’re trembling worse than leaves. He’s dimly aware of hands on his shoulders, fingers wiping blood, _Steve’s blood_, off of his face. 

He pulls against the hands, they can’t take him from Steve, not even now. “Tony, Tony come on.” The voice doesn’t fit, barely breaking through the wailing, it’s coming from him, Tony realizes, loud, guttural sobs. “Tony! Come on, you’re alright.” The body in front of him disappears, leaving only a pool of blood before the world turns black.

Tony bolts up with a choked sob, sheets sticking to sweat soaked skin. The dark room a drastic contrast from the bright sun and blood covered pavement. He gasps, hand pressed hard to his chest, clutching at the reactor. Hands are still pressing on his shoulders.

“Tony, deep breaths for me okay? You’re home, you’re safe.” Raspy with sleep and warm, Steve’s voice smooths over Tony’s frantic mind. Settling his breathing and slowing his heart. A hand gently pries his off of the reactor, bringing it to a warm, solid chest. 

Tony focuses on the shadowy figure kneeling in front of him. Steve’s here, he’s okay. It was a dream. He can’t hold back the hysteric laugh that sounds suspiciously like a sob and finds himself face first in a bare super soldier chest.

“I gotcha, it wasn’t real Tony.” He feels more than hears the words. But it does the trick to slow his galloping heart and help him get in a real breath, his senses coming back slowly. Acting on instinct, Tony reaches out, locking his arms around Steve’s neck and burying his face deep in the crook of his neck.

Steve slowly maneuvers them back horizontal on the bed, rubbing one hand up and down Tony’s back despite the drying sweat. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?” He’s quiet and soothing, not serious or demanding and he doesn’t react when Tony shakes his head. “Alright honey, go back to sleep, I’ve gotcha.” He murmurs as he pulls the blankets back up over them, rolling onto his back and pulling Tony on top of him.

Even with Steve’s arms around his waist, his strong heartbeat keeping time, it takes a long time for Tony to be able to close his eyes without seeing the hollow blue green eyes lifeless and spattered with blood.

The morning sun brings Tony slowly to consciousness, with a headache looming threateningly. Steve runs his hand up and down his back a few times. “I turned off your alarm, figured you could use the rest.” He doesn’t sound sorry.

“It was about you.” Tony mumbles, not pulling away from his super soldier pillow. Steve stills, then slowly unfreezes and places a book on the bed beside them. “My nightmare, I mean.”

Steve resumes rubbing his back, tracing his fingertips in casual patterns. “We were cleaning up after, something, something was wrong, you, uhm-“ Steve can feel Tony shudder and threads his fingers through his partner’s hair, crooning encouragements. Tony mumbles something unintelligible, fingers digging into the skin of Steve’s sides.

“Sorry honey, what was that?”

“You got shot. Right in front of me. Couldn’t stop it, couldn’t save you.”

Steve stills, the air sucked from his lungs. “Jesus Tony.” A breathless gasp and he’s crushing Tony tight to his chest. “It wasn’t real sweetheart, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Grasping at skin, Tony clings tight, fighting against hot, stinging tears.

“Fuck Steve, baby don’t ever do that to me okay? Please.” His voice cracks. Steve gathers him impossibly tighter.

Stroking the side of his face, Steve promises. “Never. Never sweetheart.” Neither of them know if he’s telling the truth. In their line of work, how could they? Every time they walk out that door could be the time one, or both of them don’t come back. But for now, it’s good enough.

—————————————

It’s cold. The suit does little with how damaged it is. Warnings flash every half second, it’s distracting. Wind bites through the suit, turning his skin to ice and making bruises and cuts ache more. Metal against metal, Tony hits the wall, just keep breathing.

All power to the chest repulser. Bright light, someone yells. Maybe it was Tony himself. Metal digging into the suit, his forearm screams in pain, strained, bloodied and probably broken by now. Another yell, not him. Blood and sweat streak Steve’s face, a face usually smiling or focused, gentle lines by the eyes. A face nothing like the one contorted in anger staring Tony down.

“Stand down! We can’t- fuck!- we can’t do this!” He’s seen Steve any before, of course. But never before has Tony had this level of anger directed at him. Steve slams the shield down on Tony’s chest and the metal caves, cutting deep into the skin around the reactor. It burns and involuntary tears burn at his eyes.

He’s on the ground now, Steve braced over him. It’s almost comical, considering they were in almost the same position last week, under drastically different circumstances. Looking up at him now, there’s no trace of the gentle touches, deep kisses and kind praises found there before.

Steve yanks the shield up high and Tony holds his hands above his face. He’s not going to fight, it was always going to end like this for him. Violent and bloody, he just never thought Steve would be on the other end. The shield falls in slow motion, and Tony squeezes his eyes shut tightly, he doesn’t want to see this.

The shield doesn’t hit his face, lodging itself deep in the reactor, and thank god it isn’t powering his heart anymore. In a blur, Steve and Bucky are gone, leaving Tony alone in the dropping temperatures. The suit is dead, he’s going to die here. Alone, the only good thing left in his life gone, leaving behind the shield that reminds him how he’ll never be as good as his father. It’s fitting.

Tony doesn’t bolt awake this time. His eyes fly open, sure, but he’s frozen. The cold lingering in his bones. The sheets aren’t even damp. He doesn’t move. He’s still alive, heart racing, even though his breathing is slow and even, perhaps too slow.

“Tony? Sweetheart what’s wrong?” The lamp turns on and Steve’s frame casts a shadow. Flashes of blood and blue and green and anger. Phantom pain in his chest, his arm, his head. He tries to look away, but catches a glimpse of the shield in the corner and panic swells.

His lungs give out, when did he get across the room? Back pressed against a wall, Steve crouching in front of him, hands held out placatingly. “Tony, I need you to breathe doll, slow and steady.” Tony pulls his knees to his chest, trying to get his legs under him steady enough to make it to the door.

He doesn’t know if he’d even make it to the door, Steve’s big, fast and strong. “please.” He pleads in a shaking, broken voice. His vision blurred enough that Steve nearly disappears.

“Please what sweetheart? What do you need?” His voice is low and gentle, but brings the nightmare back full force. The Steve in front of him contorting into one from his dream and when he rocks forward Tony flinches back, smacking his head hard against the wall.

“Please let me go, let me leave, please.” He can’t even recognize his own voice, blood roaring through his ears, throat constricting, heart desperately trying to escape his heavy chest. Steve’s expression morphs and for a second Tony can’t move, unable to look away from the changing expression, terrified of what it’s going to become.

Pain. Hurt. Shock. Steve reels back, “O-Of, of course-“ he shakes his head. “Tony you’re not trapped here.” Slowly moving back, giving his wide-eyed, petrified partner a clear path to the door and when Tony scrambles to shaky legs and stumbles out of the bedroom he doesn’t follow. Chasing someone who was scared and angry was a sure-fire way to make sure they stayed both ways.

Steve didn’t see Tony for most of the day, finding himself alone in a crowded tower. Distracted, unfocused. Sam got the drop on him in training, ribbed him for not paying attention. Steve didn’t shoot anything back, he just left. Rooms blurred together, faces indistinct. Tony still missing. What could have scared him out of their bedroom? Usually after a nightmare Tony clings to comfort.

Realization doesn’t dawn on him, it hits him like a dump truck after lunch. Tony made an appearance, grabbed a mug of coffee and accepted a plate of sliced fruits from Natasha. When he turned back around, entirely ignoring Steve, he nearly walks right into Bucky’s chest.

“Didn’t get enough sleep?” Bucky reaches out to steady Tony when he reels back, smirking over at Steve. Before Steve can shoot back a smart ass comment, Tony flinches back like he’s been burned, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to get away from Bucky’s hands.

Steve jumps to catch his partner before he hits the ground but as his hands touch Tony’s shoulders, Tony jerks away, crashing to the floor and scrambling back, face contorted in pure panic. The coffee mug smashes on the floor, ignored by everyone. It’s silent for a moment before Tony’s face goes blank.

He stands, ignoring the hands offered to help him out. “Tony, sweetheart, you okay?” A barely there flinch, but a flinch nonetheless and Steve back-pedals, trying to ignore the brick in his stomach. Tony doesn’t answer, stepping over the shattered mug and barrelling to the elevator.

“Stevie.” Bucky starts lowly. “What the fuck didja do?” It’s unsettling to have that threatening voice aimed at him, as opposed to in defence of him, but suddenly everything clicks. The brick in Steve’s stomach gets heavier, nausea forcing him to swallow hard.

When he mutters out “Siberia.” The word tastes like bile and trying to concentrate on Bucky’s guilty face is impossible with the world blurring. He suddenly knows what the nightmare was, but he hasn’t a clue on how to make it better.

Shockingly, Tony comes to their bedroom that night, well, that morning. Steve’s still awake, tossing and turning, he’s so used to having someone so keep warm. His genius cuddles, even if he denies it to anyone who asks, he’s like an octopus.

“Don’wanna sleep alone.” He mutters, barely above a whisper and his oversized army tee shirt doesn’t go unnoticed. “Can I?”

Steve moves over even more immediately. “Tony, Honey this is your bed, ‘course y’can.” Tony nods once to himself and crawls in, keeping a distance between them that hurts somewhere in Steve’s chest.

It’s silent in the bedroom, Tony curls up on his side, back to Steve in a ball. “I’m sorry.” He whispers after a few terse moments of silence, still not turning around. Steve bolts up.

“FRIDAY. Lights.” The bedroom illuminates slightly, Tony rolls over, the lights making the red rimming his eyes more obvious. He’s been crying, Steve swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “What’ve you gotta be sorry about?”

Tony slowly pushes himself up so he’s sitting against the headboard. “I, I get nervous and shut down, and I don’t talk, really, Steve, honey I’m a mess. I overreact and run away instead of dealing. I should have stayed, I know you won’t, do, anything, I do, but I didn’t and that’s not fair to you-“

“Tony.” Steve cuts him off gently, moving slowly to take a flailing hand in his own. “You have nothing to apologize for. What I did was wrong. I hurt you sweetheart, and you never have to apologize for how you react to being hurt.”

Tony stills, blinking down at their entwined hands, he doesn’t respond, just looking between their hands and Steve’s face. “I’m sorry I hurt you so bad you get nightmares, that kills me, but you have nothing to apologize for okay?” Tony nods slowly, scooting almost imperceptibly closer. Steve lets him make his way slowly, painfully slowly, across the bed until Tony’s nearly pressed against his side.

“I love you.” Tony whispers, letting Steve pull him in tight, slipping one arm over his stomach and a leg hitching up over Steve’s. They’ll be okay, Steve doesn’t bother trying to hide his fond smile, warmth spreading from his chest as he wraps an arm around Tony’s waist and tugs, pulling him onto his lap.

“I love you too Tony.” Steve signals for FRIDAY to turn the lights off again and lays back down, waiting for Tony to wriggle into place on his chest before locking his fingers together around Tony’s back and closing his eyes. Both men sleep free of nightmares.

————————————

Wind roars, nearly drowning out Steve’s heartbeat. The plane beeps warning signals, flashing red lights taking over dash, Steve doesn’t know what any of them mean. He flips switches at random, trying desperately to disarm the bombs. He’s talking, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying.

Peggy sounds terrified. They don’t have time to get Howard. “There’s not enough time, this things movin’ too fast an’ it’s heading for New York.” Thinning air means he’s gasping for each breath, glass shattering more from air pressure, shards of glass sting his skin worse than icy wind.

He doesn’t want to die. He’s barely done anything with his life, there’s so much left to do. Beeping bomb alerts finalize his fate. “I gotta put’er in the water.” Peggy begs him not to, says there’s other options. If he doesn’t people will die. He was meant for more that dancing in tights. Maybe this is it.

The water looks black, dark, cold. The glass shatters on impact, the plane jolting to a sudden stop that snaps his neck back painfully. Black spots invade his vision for a minute, curses not fit even for a soldier pouring out of his mouth, but miraculously, he’s not dead.

The lights flash bright and die out, leaving him alone in the dark. Ice water seeping in, the plane slowly sinking. Icy water soaks his boots, creeping up his calves, over his knees. He may have survived the crash, but looking around, Steve realizes there’s no way out of this plane. He’s going to die.

Steve hits the ground before he’s fully awake, yanking away from the ice, it clings to him, tripping him as he bolts for the en suite bathroom. Too cold, limbs numb and frozen. He fumbles for the taps, there’s ice in his chest, clogging his lungs, making each breath agony.

Hot water pours from all angles of the shower, already steaming and Steve throws himself in, desperate to melt the ice. It hurts, defrosting was hell the first time, hurts more now. But it’s working, barely, he can’t see his breath, and he’s not solid. 

“Hey soldier, bed’s pretty cold without you.” A soft voice from the doorway has Steve whipping around, but whatever sexual comment Tony was about to make dies on his tongue. “Honey what’s wrong?” Steve frowns at him, what’s Tony doing in the ice.

He doesn’t wait for a response, and Steve isn’t going to give one. Tony slips into the shower, still in his sleep pants, and hisses when he steps under the spray. “Shit Steve, you’re gonna melt your damn skin off.” Steve just frowns, watching Tony turn down the heat. How else is he supposed to defrost?

“Defrost?” Tony frowns “Honey you’re not frozen anymore, is that what this was all about?” Steve shivers as the temperature drops, looking around. Pants are drenched and heavy, hanging low on his hips and curled around his feet are half of the bedsheets, trailing from the shower into the bathroom. 

“I’m sorry.” He rasps, it was a nightmare, that’s all. He’s made a mess over a bad dream. Tony reaches up to cup the side of his face, bringing blue eyes up to meet brown.

“Don’t apologize, this-“ he gestures to the half drenched blankets. “Not your fault.” Tony shrugs, and he’s always been good at that, making big deals seem like nothing. Steve leans into his touch, he’s not frozen. He’s not dying. He’s not alone.

Tony’s face falls, swallowing hard. “Alright, alright Honey, y’wanna get these off for me?” He tugs at the waistband of Steve’s pants and tsks at his expression. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to offend your star spangled sensibilities.” Steve cracks a smile, carefully peeling the off his pants, watching Tony undress and kick both pairs of pants and the soaked sheets out of the shower. 

Water pounding tile drowns out any outside noise, and helps to quiet Steve’s mind, he focuses in on Tony, squirting some shampoo into his hand and lathering it. “Tilt your head.” He does, and his eyes fall closed as Tony massages his scalp.

Each touch brings Steve back to the present, calloused fingers massaging the ice out of his muscles, soaping lazily over his shoulders, down his chest, over his sides. There’s no ulterior motives, Tony doesn’t focus on any part of Steve more than another, but he doesn’t shy away either.

Steve melts into each touch, his brain fuzzing until his only thought is _Tony_. Nothing about the war, the plane, the ice. The last of his chill washes away with soap, leaving him warm and calm. The whole time, Tony stays uncharacteristically quiet, letting him gather his thoughts in peace, watching him grow softer, more pliable with each press of his fingers.

“Ready to go back to bed?” Steve nods after a moment, waiting for the question to process. Tony turns off the water and steps out of the shower, drying himself quickly before turning his attention back to Steve. He drops slowly to one knee, down his legs gently.

Sensing eyes on him, Tony looks up, pausing and smiling up at Steve. “What?” Steve smiles fondly down, reaching out to thread his fingers through the damp hair.

“Jus’ lucky t’have ya, tha’s all.” Steve quietly murmurs as Tony stands up, leaning onto his toes for a kiss, and who’s Steve to deny him anything? Slowly, they make their way over the dripping pile of clothes and sheets on the floor and into the bedroom.

Tony crawls in first, grabbing the comforter from where it hit the ground in Steve’s haste to escape. Steve slides in beside him, pulling him close immediately. “I thought I was the clingy one here.” Tony laughs quietly, but allows himself to be manhandled into the super soldier’s lap.

Once settled, Steve lays back fully, Tony’s weight on his chest grounding him, keeping him in the present and out of the ice. It’s easier to fall asleep now, with arms wrapped around him, legs entangled in his own and a damp head on his chest. Steve trails his fingers up and down Tony’s bare back, smiling to himself when his already sleeping genius hums and nuzzles closer.

Steve went into the ice as one person, and came out as another, that used to be a bad thing. But now? With a team that trusts him, and the smartest, bravest and kindest man passed out on his chest? The ice might actually have been the best thing that ever happened to him.

—————————————— 

Dirt and fire explode to his left, someone yells. He can’t tell who, he doesn’t know if they’re hurt, dead, captured. He can’t even tell if they’re on the same side or not. He can barely get the shield up in time when someone shoots at him, the ringing echos into his ears.

People fall, left right and centre. Bloody snow kicks up around him. The fighting ceases. Steve slowly lowers his shield. The bodies scattered around him, both allied and enemy. In front of him, Bucky stands stock still, dressed in the Howling Commandos outfit.

“All that serum and you still couldn’t save me?” A smirk doesn’t fit on his face, not with what he’s saying but he smirks anyways. Steve’s heart drops, nausea swirling through his stomach.

He falters forward a step. “Buck, you know I tried.” His voice is small, a scared kid from Brooklyn all over again. The shield feels too big, the uniform doesn’t fit, he doesn’t belong here.

“You failed, you’ve never been good enough.” The Brooklyn drawl makes it worse, and Steve is so focused on Bucky he almost misses the sense of ‘right behind you’ raising the hair on the back of his neck. He whips around, shield barely coming up in time to block the metal arm.

The Winter Soldier is undeterred, throwing a punch with his flesh hand instead. Steve scrambles back, cursing and blocking, never attacking. “I’m like this because of you.” The Soldier’s raspy voice accuses. Steve stumbles, hitting the ground hard and rolling to avoid being crushed by a metal fist.

“You couldn’t save me, and you can’t save him.” Bucky calls Steve’s attention away. Tony kneels in the snow, trembling with a blade pressed to his throat. Steve’s blood turns to ice, the air suddenly gone from his lungs.

Gasping “_Tony_”, Steve struggles away from The Soldier, desperate to keep the one person he can’t live without, alive. The Soldier grabs his shoulder, keeping him from getting to Tony. Throwing back an elbow that connects with nothing, Steve pushes through thick snow. 

“Steve!” Tony cries out, reaching a shaking hand out for Steve, pleading for help. The Soldier wraps flesh arm around Steve’s chest, holding him tight. “Steve! Stop!” Tony’s voice comes from The Soldier, freezing Steve where he kneels.

Steve jerks upright, ripping the hands off his shoulders and twisting away to pin them. Ragged breath punching out of his lungs.

“Steve, honey, can you let me go?” A soft voice asks from under him. Steve looks around frantically, where did Bucky go? Where did The Soldier go? He looks down, staring into wide, startled eyes.

Steve yanks back like he’s been burned, nearly throwing himself off the bed in the process. “Shit! Tony, I’m so sorry.” He looks down at his own shaking hands, it’s stupid to let his strength go unchecked. “Did I hurt you?” The question sounds hollow, even to him.

“Nah,” Tony brushes him off, sitting up slowly. “I’m Iron Man, takes a lot more than a bad dream to hurt me. Take a minute, catch your breath Spangles.” His voice goes soft, slowly signalling for JARVIS to dimly illuminate the room.

Steve drags in sharp breaths, wiping a trembling hand over his eyes. He flicks his tongue out to wet his lips and leans onto his knees. “I’m sorry sweetheart.” He manages to force out through the lump in his throat.

The bed dips behind him and arms wrap around his chest, Tony’s chin resting on his shoulder. “Don’t be. I’m okay.” He pauses for a second, taking in his partner’s sweaty, shaken complexion. “Are you?”

Steve breathes a shaky laugh, shaking his head and gently wrapping his hand around Tony’s arms, feeling the pulse thrumming through his wrists. He’s okay. Safe. “I’ve got you, sweetheart, I’m gonna be fine.” Tony ducks his head to press a kiss to the junction of Steve’s neck.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” Tony asks gently, stroking his thumb back and forth across Steve’s collarbone. He doesn’t, not really, he’s terrified if he falls asleep Bucky will be there again, taunting him, blaming him for the fall,

Steve just nods, pressing his knuckles hard into his thighs to stop his hands from shaking. The bed is soft and warm, nothing like the cold snow or the metal arm wrapped around his throat. Tony scoots back, dimming the lights again and reaches out. “C’mon honey, I dunno about you but I could use a few more hours.”

Steve doesn’t want to sleep, he’s terrified of it, but with a needy genius curling up on his chest, how could he not?

When Steve wakes, he’s alone, but the bed is still warm so Tony can’t have gone far. Sun streaming through the windows tells him he slept through his morning run, but he’s pretty sure he’d earned a day off.Slowly, Steve gets out of bed, making his way into the hallway.

Tony hums in the kitchen, swaying gently to music only he can hear while eggs sizzle in a pan. Hickies dot their way up his neck and chest. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Steve drawls, leaning against the doorway. Tony turns, grinning widely and holding a hand out.

A hand attached to a delicate, breakable wrist. A delicate, breakable wrist coloured with purple finger marks and splotches. Steve’s stomach drops, reaching his hand out to take Tony’s wrist gently. “Shit. Tony is that- Did I- Did I do that?” His voice comes out strangled.

“Steve, honey, it’s not as bad as it looks I promise.” Tony abandons his eggs to cup Steve’s face between his hands. Steve pulls his hands down gently to examine his wrists. Both wrists bruised and swollen, nausea breaks a cold sweat across Steve’s back and he reels away.

The wall digs into his spine painfully, but he presses harder into it when Tony steps forward. “I-Fuck, _Tony_” His voice cracks, choking off into a high whine. Shaking hands held out placatingly, Tony continues forward.

“It was an _accident_ Steve, not your fault big guy” His voice trembles like he’s talking down a cornered animal, never taking his eyes off of Steve. Nervously, Steve reaches out to gingerly take Tony’s hands again. “I won’t break.” Barely above a whisper, and yet, Steve flinches back.

“You almost did.” Bruising that dark, that fast? The swelling? It’s a miracle the delicate bones in his genius’s wrists didn’t break. “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Tony huffs “yeah and I promised to stop eating dairy, but Ben and Jerry’s named a flavour after me so-“ he shrugs “- promises get broken sometimes.”

“It’s not the same thing!” Steve snaps, pushing past Tony, gently, to the kitchen, putting some space between them. 

Tony groans, following him into the kitchen and hopping up onto the counter so they’re level. “Alright, well, my wrists were bruised last week, what makes this any different?” 

“Honey, if I have to tell you what made that different, we’ve been doing this wrong.” Steve huffs lowly, shaking his head.

Tony reaches out, carding his fingers through short, blonde hair and humming. “Besides, your wrists were _not _that bruised last week, I have more self control than that.” Tony makes an understanding hum, tugging on blonde hair until Steve’s eyes flutter shut.

“If I didn’t think I could handle you, _all of you_, I wouldn’t be here” Steve leans into the touches, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter and pillowing his head on Tony’s lap. Smiling despite himself as fingers play with the hair on the nape of his neck.

Those clever fingers trial down his jaw, lifting until Steve looks up. “Your nightmares aren’t going to scare me away Steve. I’m not going anywhere.” He smiles gently, thumb swiping across Steve’s lower lip. Steve can’t fight the fond smile, and he doesn’t want to.

“I love you.” Steve murmurs, leaning up to kiss Tony gently. Humming softly, Tony’s arms come up around Steve’s neck, pulling himself closer. Steve laughs “fuckin’ octopus,” quietly, but he loops one arm loosely around the brunette’s waist and brings him closer.

“Shuddup and kiss me, Soldier.”

**Author's Note:**

> There we go! My first official AO3 work! I've been writing for years and never really had the courage to post anything. If you see mistakes let me know, I'm not perfect so sometimes I miss letters. Let me know what you think!


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